Burbage Theatre Company Presents Review of MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING

Breaking news to your phone. US mobile only. No password required.

Broadway + NYC

Broadway

Off-Broadway

Off-Off Broadway

Cabaret

Dance

Opera

Classical Music

West End / UK

International

Canada

Australia / New Zealand

Europe

Asia

Latin America

Africa / Middle East

Entertainment

Ctrl + K to open · Esc to close

now through October 11

Most Popular

Get all the top news & discounts for Rhode Island & beyond. No password required.

Before we begin, I want to be clear about something: I am Shakespeare-obsessed.

In a previous life, a 22-year-old version of me wept at Shakespeare’s grave in the middle of the day after drinking half a bottle of wine. That is a story for another day, but I hope it demonstrates the point: I love this work.

And of all his comedies, Much Ado About Nothing has always been my favorite.

Burbage Theatre Company’s Much Ado About Nothing , directed by Stephen Thorne , runs through October 11 at the Wendy Overly Studio Theatre in Pawtucket. Thorne knows Shakespeare. In fact, his portrayal of Iago in Trinity Rep’s 2018 production of Othello remains one of my favorite interpretations of the character I have seen. I have also loved multiple productions he has directed, so I came into Much Ado truly excited to see what he would do with a play I love this much.

I should also acknowledge another expectation I brought into the room. My first Burbage production was Clyde’s earlier this year, and I was blown away by it.

Fairly or unfairly, that set a bar.

Shakespeare is remarkably moveable. I have absolutely no problem taking his work out of its original setting, changing the time period, or reimagining the world around it we initially set. But when you relocate Shakespeare, I do think the new setting needs to tell us something.

Here, Messina has seemingly become some version of rural… someplace? With the setting primarily in a barn. There are enormous bales of actual hay that become chairs, beds, hiding places, and various other pieces of scenery. Yet, I never completely understood why we were in this particular world. If we are in rural America, when are we there? What does this setting tell us about these characters, their social hierarchy, their attitudes toward marriage, or even the soldiers returning home? I am not sure the production ever completely explains why.

The actual hay also creates an unintended problem. The actors are very active with it. They get up with hay stuck all over their costumes. On more than one occasion, I watched someone either brush themselves off or continue playing a scene with pieces of hay visibly clinging to them. It sounds incredibly minor, and it is, until enough minor distractions begin adding up.

That word, distracting, kept coming back to me throughout the production.

For much of the show, the audience is so brightly lit that I could clearly see the people sitting across from me. In a play so deeply concerned with watching and overhearing, there could actually be an interesting idea there. But in practice, I found myself occasionally watching other audience members react instead of watching the actors. Sightlines created other issues from my seat. A chalkboard incorporated into the scenic design contained things I did not realize were there until intermission because portions of it were difficult for me to see. Curtains at the back of the set also did not completely conceal backstage movement from my angle, so I could sometimes see actors waiting or moving behind them.

Again, none of these things destroys a production, but more so accumulate.

Then we get to the comedy. At one point, someone draws a penis on the aforementioned chalkboard. I actually texted my editor at intermission something along the lines of, “I think they just drew a dick onstage.” To which she responded, “Big Benedick energy?” There is also a moment where Benedick farts at Beatrice. I actually paused, leaned over to my neighbor and went, “Did he fart?”

My issue is not that either joke is too vulgar for Shakespeare. As I said, Shakespeare himself was incredibly bawdy. The problem is that Beatrice and Benedick are already funny, and their relationship works because these are two incredibly intelligent people who use language to spar with one another while desperately trying not to acknowledge what is happening underneath it. And here is, what I believe is, a problem: sometimes this production seems so determined to prove that Shakespeare can be funny that it adds another joke when the joke is already there.

That instinct becomes more uncomfortable with Dogberry and the Watch. I do not believe the production intended to mock anyone with a cognitive or intellectual disability, but there were moments when the characterization came uncomfortably close to that territory for me. Between the exaggerated physicality and mannerisms and a costume that includes a bright safety vest, yellow rain hat, and goggles, I sometimes found myself wondering what, exactly, we were being asked to laugh at. Dogberry is already ridiculous. He mangles language, takes himself enormously seriously, and is wildly confident in his own competence while constantly demonstrating the opposite. And somehow, this group everyone else dismisses manages to uncover the crime that nearly everyone with more social power misses. I love this character, but in this production, Dogberry too often feels like a punchline that punches down.

I also think Shakespeare presents another challenge that this production does not always overcome. There is an enormous difference between speaking Shakespeare and communicating Shakespeare. Some actors in this production are exceptional at the latter. You may not understand every piece of language, but you understand exactly what they want, who they are talking to, and why it matters. Elsewhere, I sometimes felt as though the language was being recited rather than lived in.

At intermission, a woman in front of me turned around and admitted that she could not understand the show at all. Another audience member nearby had a different problem. She said she thought the production seemed really good, but she could not hear much of what was being said. Those are obviously two individual audience experiences, but they stuck with me.

When you are asking an audience to engage with a text that is more than 400 years old, they are already doing some work. The production has to meet them halfway. If they are struggling to hear the words or understand the intention behind them, adding another visual gag does not necessarily make Shakespeare more accessible. Sometimes it just gives them one more thing to process.

Now, I’m not here to say that this production should be perfect, and I again, want to invoke my love of this play and Shakespeare as a likely detriment as I came into this show with expectations, which I try not to do.

All that being said, this cast is nearly perfect, and truly the best thing about this show.

Alison Russo ’s Beatrice is one of my favorite Beatrices I have seen. She does not overplay her. She does not underplay her. She does not seem interested in showing us how clever or modern or feminist Beatrice is. She is simply Beatrice. Russo allows the wit, anger, vulnerability, intelligence, and attraction to coexist. She handles Beatrice beautifully.

Jeff Church is equally wonderful as Benedick. I will admit that when he pulled out a Hawaiian shirt, I had a brief moment where I thought, “Am I about to get Benedick, or am I about to get The Dude?” Instead, I got Benedick. Church’s physical comedy is some of the best in the production, particularly because it feels like it grows out of the character rather than being placed on top of him. On such a small stage, he manages to make enormous physical choices without losing control of the scene.

David Sackal , as Don Pedro, also repeatedly stole my attention. There is a moment when Don Pedro asks Beatrice why she will not marry him, and I found myself thinking, “Yeah, nope, that seems like a great idea. Just do that.” The chemistry is that good.

Tatiana Sullivan ’s Hero may be the production’s more understated standout. Hero is a difficult character because so much happens to her rather than because of her. She is desired, discussed, accused, rejected, defended, and I’ll leave out the other things, but it’s a Shakespeare, use your imagination. It would be incredibly easy for her to disappear inside her own story. Sullivan does not let that happen. Even when she is not speaking, she remains present. She gives Hero a life beyond what everyone else is saying about her, and I found myself continually watching her.

Chris DePina ’s Claudio was more difficult for me to read. At first, I wondered whether the emotional restraint was intentional and whether the production might use Claudio to bring forward some of the much darker material sitting underneath this comedy. But that interiority never completely revealed itself to me. Even knowing the play as well as I do, there were moments when I struggled to determine exactly what Claudio was feeling, and it did sometimes miss the mark. That becomes particularly important in a play where a modern audience already has to wrestle with whether it can forgive Claudio for what he does to Hero (see my previous points). Personally, I found this Claudio not worth redeeming and wanted Hero to go for someone, anyone, else.

There are also several supporting performances that deserve attention – again, this cast is everything.

Tylar Jahumpa , as Balthasar, repeatedly commands the stage. In the interest of full disclosure, I have known Jahumpa for some time, but this was my first opportunity to actually see him perform. There is a moment during the party scene where he is above the action and suddenly begins playing instruments to keep everything moving, and I genuinely had no idea he could do that. He was wonderful, and I cannot wait to see what he does next. A powerhouse!

Meighread Dandeneau , as the Friar (as well as a member of the watch), has the kind of stage presence where you find yourself watching her even when the scene is not technically about her. More importantly, she seems incredibly comfortable with Shakespeare’s language. There is an ease to her delivery that makes the text feel immediate rather than historical.

Omar Laguerre-Lewis , as Borachio, has a similar ability to pull focus without appearing to seek it. Even when Borachio was not driving the scene, I repeatedly found myself watching what Laguerre-Lewis was doing in the background. His reactions frequently found humor without needing to force another joke into the scene. Also, are you ok? His physical comedy had me worried he had hurt himself at one point.

It is also entirely possible that the performance I saw is still finding its footing. There were moments when actors stopped and restarted lines, and Dogberry appeared to be working from a clipboard for much of the performance. I heard audience members speculating about why that might have been the case, but without confirmation, I’m going to leave that out. Those are the kinds of things that may disappear as a run continues, and I think they are different from the larger artistic choices I found myself questioning, like a dick on a chalkboard.

So, after all of this, you are probably wondering: should you go see it? Well, absolutely. The cast is truly phenomenal, and not going to see what these actors have put together would be heartbreaking.

My frustration with the production actually comes from how much good is already there. These actors do not need to be rescued by another gag, another bit, or another visual distraction. It reminds me of the phrase “let them cook,” but instead it’s “let them Shakespeare”.

I walked out questioning a lot of choices, but I also walked out thinking about an ensemble I would happily watch tackle Shakespeare again, and would look forward to doing so. I wanted less from the production becaus

_Originally reported by [BroadwayWorld](https://www.broadwayworld.com/rhode-island/article/Review-MUCH-ADO-ABOUT-NOTHING-at-Burbage-Theatre-Company-20260922)._